


Two's Company, Three's Where The Real Fun Starts

by pardonmeforyelling



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 06:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14743730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pardonmeforyelling/pseuds/pardonmeforyelling
Summary: Paul and Patryck have known Tord long enough to know he's more than his Red Leader persona.But they also know it's going to take some quick thinking to get him to drop it and show a more vulnerable side.





	Two's Company, Three's Where The Real Fun Starts

**Author's Note:**

> well, this has been a long time coming but work has kept me ridiculously busy. hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> also shoutout to matty (@murderbreak) for helping with the title <3

Paul watches from across the hangar as Patryck talks to Tord. 

The two are having a jovial conversation, both gesturing and smiling as their loud voices carry in the wide space. 

Paul can't make out the words, but Tord must crack a joke, because Patryck laughs hard, head thrown back, one hand resting on his stomach. Tord crosses his arms, grinning at the other man’s display. 

When Patryck calms somewhat he leans in closer, resting a hand on the elbow of Tord’s good arm. Tord looks thrown by the gesture for a moment before smirking wolfishly. The two continue their conversation, voices hushed. 

Tord lays his metal hand over Patryck’s, cocking his head towards him subtly. Pat smiles and leans in to whisper something in Tord’s ear, but as he pulls back Tord angles his head up and lays a quick kiss against his lips. 

Paul’s eyebrows shoot up at the same moment Pat’s do. He has the decency to look shocked as Tord makes his exit, waving almost dazedly to his superior as he leaves the building. 

Paul lets his cigarette drop from his mouth and crushes it underfoot before covering the distance between them in a few brisk strides. He slides up behind Patryck, arms coiling around his middle as he tilts his head up to rest against the taller pilot’s shoulder. “That went better than expected.”

Patryck hums, and Paul can see his fake doe eyes replaced by a cunning smirk. “Yes, well, he was very receptive to my ah… advances.” 

“Do I even want to ask what the joke was?”

Patryck pats one of his hands placatingly. “It wasn't at your expense, love. Have no fear.” 

Paul hums thoughtfully. “Do we have a date?”

“ _ I  _ have a date,” Pat clarifies, turning in Paul’s arms. “ _ You _ are going to surprise him.” 

Paul frowns, unsure. “You think he'll appreciate that?” 

Patryck beams. “I think if he wants to get railed by one of his star pilots, he won't turn down the offer for two.” 

Paul shakes his head, chuckling. “Language, soldier.” 

“Piss off,” Patryck chuckles, ducking down to kiss Paul. 

* * *

 

Paul isn't nervous. That's why he's leaning against the door separating the bedroom from the bathroom of his and Pat’s private quarters, half-hard dick tucked into the waistband of his boxers, heart hammering in his chest. 

Because he totally isn't nervous. Not at all. Just another day at the office. 

He can keep his cool amidst swarms of zombies, or under a hail of bullets, but fucking his boss with his partner? Well. That's another story. 

The main door to the bedroom creaks open, and Paul can hear as the other two make their entrance, Patryck giggling breathlessly. It's hard to know, without the visual tells, whether he's actually getting this worked up or if he's simply luring Tord in further to try and knock him off his game.

Both of them really want to fuck Tord. Like,  _ really _   want to fuck Tord. And he had been coming on to both of them ever since they were promoted to his personal pilots.

(On second thought, maybe there was a reason for that promotion. Paul drags a hand over his face. That may also be the reason why they were steadily climbing the ranks to second in command. That could get very messy very quickly if Tord had a genuine interest in them.)

But Patryck was also a very sly person. He loved to have everyone wrapped around his fingers, loved playing people like puppets. And he especially loved throwing people off, making them feel out of their depth and in his control. 

It was what made Paul fall in love with him in the first place. He was the brawn and Pat was the brains, and he was fine with that. It made them a dangerous pair. 

Add Tord, with his pure ambition and force of will, and they might just be able to make anyone and anything bow.

But for now, Patryck was panting aloud and whining “Red Leader!” like his life depended on it, and Paul was completely hard in his boxers, so he decided now would be the time to make his appearance.

He moves off the door, and quickly spins around and tugs it open before he can give himself a chance to second-guess it. 

Pat was sitting on the bed with Tord kneeling over him, biological hand wrapped around his dick, steadily stroking him off. The robotic hand is tangled in Pat’s hair, angling his head back to give Tord room to nip and lick at his throat. 

Pat’s hands are resting on Tord’s thighs, fingers digging into the muscle there, eyes shut in a look of ecstasy. 

Both of them stop when the door opens, Tord looking like a deer in the headlights while Pat opens his eyes and smirks at Paul. 

Tord is in his full Red Leader regalia, minus the ostentatious boots that he seems to have graciously abandoned at the front door. Pat is dressed down, wearing a dark blue sweater that Paul recognizes as his own by the way it falls slightly short of Pat’s wrists.

Judging by this and their posture alone, Paul thinks he can figure the angle Patryck took to get Tord here. It’s clever, especially considering what they had planned for him. 

Paul rests his hands on his hips, mustering up his best unimpressed look. The stance is meant to make him look broad and intimidating, but it also gives Tord a direct line of sight to the erection now poking out of his boxers.

His expression darkens, and he turns back to Pat slowly, the robotic hand moving from his hair to rest on his chest. “What were you thinking?” he growls, shoving Patryck down against the mattress. 

Pat’s eyes go wide, and Paul fears they might’ve made a fatal misstep. But then Tord chuckles, hand slowly sliding back up Patryck’s dick, thumb stroking over the head. “Naughty, naughty,” he purrs, right hand moving to rest over Pat’s collarbone. 

Pat bites his lower lip, bucking his hips up into Tord’s touch. “Yeah? You gonna punish me?”

Tord glances back at Paul and snaps his fingers, pointing to the floor beside the bed. Paul approaches, not taking his eyes off Tord’s as he does. Tord is smirking wide, good eye narrowed as he scans Paul’s body appreciatively. 

As soon as Paul is beside them, Tord starts to open his mouth to say something. Probably deliver a command about what he thinks Paul should do next.

But that isn’t how they’re playing this.

He knots a hand in Tord’s hair, yanking his head to face him fully, and kisses him hard.

Tord groans, his robotic hand reaching up to knot in his t-shirt, pulling him closer. Paul obliges, shuffling forward until his knees bump the mattress and Tord’s arm is pinned against his stomach. 

But then Pat surges up, knocking Tord on his ass. Tord lets out an undignified yelp as he topples back, legs flying wide as he hits the mattress. 

He looks disgruntled, but it fades as Patryck starts palming him through his trousers. Tord sighs, letting his head tip back. 

Paul is quick to relieve him of his layers and layers of uniform. “The word is propeller if you want us to stop,” he says.

“And what if you want me to stop?” Tord challenges somewhat breathlessly as Pat frees his dick from his boxers. 

“You won't be doing much tonight, sir,” Patryck purrs, his expression a combination flirtatious and dangerous.

Tord blinks, a look of frustration briefly crossing his face before it disappears as Patryck takes his dick into his mouth. He groans in relief, a hand moving back to Pat’s hair. But Paul is quick to snatch them up, transferring both wrists to one hand. Tord’s head snaps to look at him, single eye narrowing dangerously.

“What's the word?” Paul asks, leaning in.

“Propeller.” Tord grits out. 

Paul smirks. “Good.” His free hand cups Tord’s cheek, and pulls him in for a kiss. Tord is immediately all teeth and tongue, clearly frustrated at the submissive spot he finds himself in.

But, although his robotic arm is more than capable of breaking free from Paul’s grip… it doesn't. So neither of the pilots break off until Tord is gasping against Paul’s lips, and Paul reaches back to tap the top of Pat’s head. 

Pat pops off with a vulgar sound, spit trailing from his lip to Tord’s head. Paul pulls back as well, never releasing Tord’s hands. 

Tord chuckles, falling slack against the bed. “So, this is the game you've been playing, is it? I have to say, I'm impressed.” 

Pat smiles wide, eyes sparkling. “Oh, this is only the beginning.” He works Tord’s trousers and boxers off and discards them with the rest of his uniform, before removing his own sweater.

Tord is eyeing him with a hungry look, so Pat shoots him a flirtatious look, crawling over his hips. “Do you want to touch?” he asks. 

Tord grins like a predator who just found his next meal. Now his hands are straining against Paul’s grip. “Of course.”

Pat purses his lips thoughtfully. “Then ask nicely.”

Tord’s expression drops into a scowl. “What.”

“May  _ I _ , Patryck?” Paul asks over him.

Pat smiles, sitting up again. “Why, of course love.” 

Paul releases Tord’s hands, which fall to the bed, to stand behind Patryck, stroking over his sides and gently massaging his thumbs over the small of his back and hips. He adores the way Pat arches into his touch, eyes falling heavy. 

“Ask nicely,” Pat repeats, voice light but deliberate. 

Tord pushes himself up to his elbows, giving the two a long, thoughtful look. “Can I touch you, Pat?” he asks finally. 

Patryck smiles, holding a hand out. Tord takes it and sits up, nearly face to face with Pat now. Pat gives Tord a quick kiss on his knuckles before setting the hand against his chest. 

Tord wastes no time, hands immediately sliding Pat’s trousers down over his hips, fully revealing his flushed cock. He traces a light touch over its length before stroking it. 

Pat lets out a breathless laugh, bucking into the touch. “Straight to business, are we?”

“Well, I came here to fuck you,” Tord says bluntly. “But since that's not happening-” He shoots a look at Paul, plainly aware Patryck didn't hatch this plot alone. “I suppose I'd like to see whatever you two have planned.” 

Patryck lets out a thoughtful sound. “Well, I think someone here has been missing out on the fun,” he says, reaching back and stroking Paul’s cheek. “I say we switch it up.” And with that he stands, kicking the last of his clothes off before moving behind Tord, who watches him apprehensively. 

Paul removes his boxers and kneels on the bed, pulling Tord up to him. He sits back against the headboard, guiding Tord into his lap. Tord has a moment of concern as Paul reaches over to the side table and coats his palm in lube, but he takes both of their cocks in his grip, stroking and twisting over them together. 

Tord sucks in a breath, thrusting into the grip shamelessly. As the two of them rut together, Pat approaches from behind, rubbing over the scarred expanse of Tord’s back, up to his shoulders as he leans against the just-barely shorter man. 

Tord turns to look over his shoulder, but Pat is at his bad side. So he has little warning as the pilot grabs his jaw, pulling him in for a messy kiss. His breath comes in short puffs as Paul brings them off, hips stuttering from the sensation. 

Pat pulls back, but quickly replaces his mouth with two fingers at Tord’s lips. He sucks on them without question, bobbing his head enthusiastically. Pat can't help but smile at the little show, keen to let him go on until his fingers are dripping. 

When he draws back, Tord’s now-empty mouth drops open around a moan as Paul picks up the pace with his hand, almost as worked up as the man above him. 

Pat leans back, clean hand tracing Tord’s spine before laying a light swat against his ass. Tord lets out a noise like a growl, so Pat silently crosses that off. For now. 

Instead, he uses that hand to spread Tord apart, one spit-slicked finger teasing against his entrance before slowly sliding in. Tord clenches around the intrusion, but groans encouragingly. 

Pat gives a few slow thrusts before pulling out again, reaching for the lube. It sounded like this was Tord’s first time bottoming in a while, if ever, so it would require some patience on all of their parts. 

He slicks the same two fingers, immediately going back to just one, stroking along Tord’s walls and gently opening the ring of muscle. Tord is still making pleased noises, though that may also have something to do with the two cocks now openly leaking pre-cum over Paul’s hand. 

Patryck slowly presses in a second digit, and Tord’s hips still as he adjusts. But Paul keeps up his pace, eyes trained on Tord’s- frankly, obscene- expression. Pat gives him one slow thrust before gradually picking up the speed. 

Tord lets out a little moan, hips grinding between the two sensations. He's panting now as Paul focuses solely on his dick, slick strokes coming in varying patterns that push him towards the edge. 

As Pat starts scissoring him apart, one of his fingers brushes that bundle of nerves, and Tord comes across Paul’s chest with a shout. Pat stills his movements, but keeps his fingers buried in Tord, free hand stroking his side comfortingly. 

Paul releases his cock, wiping his dirty hand on the sheets. Tord leans back against Pat’s chest as his breathing evens out, face flushed and sweaty. 

Paul runs a finger through the mess on his chest, making eye contact with Tord. “Well, are you going to clean your mess up?”

Tord lets out a scoff. “You're joking.” 

Paul raises a brow, expression inscrutable. “Do I look like I'm joking?”

Tord practically snarls. “Absolutely  _ fucking _ not you-”

Pat knots a hand in Tord’s hair, twisting his head around again. At the look of genuine disgust on his face, he shoots Paul a soft look. “Cleaning up can wait till after.” 

He gently spins Tord around, cupping the other man’s face in his hands. His expression softens, scanning Patryck’s face curiously. Pat coaxes him in for a kiss, watches as his eye slips shut. 

Glancing over his formidable leader’s shoulder, he can see Paul pushing himself upright, reaching for the lube. Pat smiles into the kiss before letting his own eyes shut.

Tord relaxes in the embrace, going entirely pliant as Pat licks into his mouth. Tord’s hands twitch forward, fingers grazing Pat's thighs. It's cute, really, to see him so hesitant. 

Pat pulls back and nods, their noses bumping together. Tord’s breath puffs warm over his lips, and he closes the distance between them, palms stroking over Pat’s thighs and hips. Pat hums, pressing into the touch. 

Just as he's starting to get more confident, grip tightening around Pat’s hips, Tord sucks in a breath as Paul presses two fingers into him. Tord moans, head dropping to Patryck’s shoulder while he rocks back against the intrusion. It almost makes Pat laugh, seeing their Leader such a mess, fucking himself on one of his subordinate’s hands. But he doesn’t want to antagonize him again, so he bites his tongue. 

Paul works in a third finger, forcing another moan from Tord. Pat leans in, kissing and nipping along his neck, thoroughly enjoying Tord’s labored breaths, and unconscious little noises. He wished it was always this easy to have Tord wrapped around his finger, but he would take it for the time being at least. 

Paul fingers Tord for a while longer, until he feels the other man is stretched to his satisfaction. He slowly withdraws his fingers, both pilot’s expressions hungry when Tord groans at the loss. 

While Paul slicks himself up, Pat trails a hand down to Tord’s cock, unable to resist purring out a “good” when he finds it hard again. A barely-suppressed shiver runs through Tord, but when Pat glances up his Leader isn't looking at him- his good eye is pinched shut, and his cheeks are flushed. 

Patryck cups his cheeks, drawing his attention. “What do you say we try something different?”

Tord just blinks, allowing himself to be manhandled as Pat sits back, pulling Tord over him. Pat kisses him again, just for the sake of giving him something to do while Paul lines up behind him. Tord hums into the kiss, bracing his hands against the bed on either side of Pat as he kneels over him. 

When Paul taps him on the hip, Tord pulls back, looking dazedly over his shoulder. “Just say the word if it's ever too much, got it?” 

Just as Tord opens his mouth, Paul pushes in, dragging a vulgar moan from him. Pat giggles as Tord lets his head drop to his shoulder once more. Paul slowly works up to the base, and pauses to let Tord adjust. 

While he does, Patryck moves back, gently maneuvering Tord onto his elbows. Tord glances up as Pat’s cock enters his line of sight. 

“If I get too handsy, two taps means you need a break, okay?” Pat teases. 

Tord nods, laying a kiss to the head of his dick. Pat lets out a sigh, leaning back on his hands to watch the show unfold. 

Tord slowly brings him into his mouth, tongue circling around his tip before sinking lower, pressing against the underside of his shaft. Pat bucks up a little bit, dragging a beautiful choked moan from Tord. 

Just as Tord is starting to establish a slow rhythm, Paul pulls out and quickly slams back in. Tord lets out a cry around Pat’s cock, drool slipping from between his lips. Paul sets a hard pace, leaning over Tord and fucking him into the sheets. 

Tord struggles to stay up on his knees and elbows, but doesn't even pause in bobbing his head around Pat. Between the two sights, his lover taking control and his boss’s head between his legs, it’ll be a wonder if Pat can keep up with either of them. 

He lets his head tip back, reveling in the sensation and the sounds. His own breath starts coming hard as Tord takes him deeper, his rhythm unpredictable in a way that’s driving Pat up the wall. True to his word, he knots a hand in Tord’s hair, occasionally rocking up into his mouth. 

This only seems to spur Tord on more, even as his throat spasms around Pat’s cock with the effort of not gagging. Patryck finally cracks, letting out a moan as he bucks into Tord’s mouth, practically fucking his throat.

Tord’s eye is glassy under his heavy lid, but his hands are fisting at the sheets, muffled noises slipping from his mouth along with drool and precum as he rocks back to meet Paul’s thrusts. 

Paul is breathing hard now too, fingers digging into Tord’s hips as he drives in harder and harder. But Tord isn't giving up what little control he has, moving between them and bobbing his head, tongue curling and pressing against Pat’s cock. 

It's all too much, so Patryck clenches his fingers tight in Tord’s hair, feeling his orgasm building fast, and with a few final thrusts, comes hard against the back of Tord’s throat. Pat expects Tord to choke, to jerk back and maybe get cum in his good eye. 

But after the initial surprise, Tord hardly gags, just pulls back far enough that Pat’s dick is out of his throats and swallows around him, a few drops slipping out of the scarred corner of his mouth. Patryck groans, cock twitching with the last few waves of his orgasm. He slowly loosens his grip, but doesn't take his eyes away as Tord pulls off, a string of spit between his head and Tord’s lip only breaking when Tord delivers one last lick on Pat’s length. 

Pat lets out a hot breath, gently coaxing Tord to lay against his chest as they both catch their breath. But Paul seems to have other plans as he presses a hand flat against Tord’s stomach, cocking his hips further up as he plows into their leader. 

Tord lets out a strangled sound, breath continuing to come in hard pants as Paul bottoms out with every thrust. His hands move from the sheets to Pat’s sides, nails digging into his skin and dragging out long red welts. Patryck shudders at the sensation, a soft moan leaving him. 

Paul catches the sound, meeting his lover’s eyes over the mess of a man between them. His expression changes slightly, and the hand on Tord’s stomach moves to his shaft, stroking him off in time with his thrusts. 

Tord comes with a gasp as Paul continues railing into him, cum streaking against the sheets. Paul doesn't relent in his bruising pace, ramming into the man without mercy. 

Tord is entirely limp in his hands now, breathless noises escaping him with every thrust. His fingers dig in weakly at Pat’s ribs, the pleasure and overstimulation rendering him nearly useless. Patryck strokes over Tord’s hair and shoulders, attempting to help bring him down as Paul fucks him through his orgasm. “You’re going good, Tord,” Pat murmurs.

But Tord doesn’t respond, eyes clenched shut as he pants, hands clenching into fists. Pat frowns and gently cups his cheeks, moving Tord’s head to face him fully. His good eye cracks open, looking up at him dazedly.

“You remember the word, right?” he asks. Tord nods. “I need you to say it for me, Tord.”

“Propeller,” Tord gasps, leaning into Pat’s hands as Paul fucks him. 

“And you’ll use it if you need to, won’t you?” Pat adds, voice more of a statement than a true question.

Tord simply nods again, and as if to make the point, Paul snaps his hips against Tord, hitting even harder. Tord cries out, head dropping back to Pat’s stomach as he weakly rocks his hips back against Paul.  

Patryck is about to snap at Paul, tell him not to break their leader, for god’s sake, but before he can Tord finally finds his voice. “S-so good, more, fuck…!”

Pat raises his eyebrows in surprise, but Paul doesn’t miss a beat, leaning over Tord to press his chest against his back as he thrusts into Tord. Tord lets out another shout, pushing his hips back in response. Paul’s hand finds his cock again, giving him light, teasing strokes and quick swipes over its head. 

Tord practically keens, legs trembling from the overstimulation. Paul keeps up the slow, light pace with his hand as his thrusts grow erratic, panting against Tord’s shoulder. “Want me to come inside you?” he growls, pushing deeper into Tord. 

Tord cries out, hips stuttering in Paul’s grip as the other man clearly finds that perfect spot. “Fuck,” Tord grits out, clearly still battling with his pride. “Ye-es, please- fill me up, I need it!”

Paul shudders, digging his teeth into Tord’s shoulder as he comes, buried up to the hilt. His hand tightens around Tord’s cock, giving him a few sure strokes. Tord moans, shuddering in Paul’s hold as another orgasm washes over him. He very nearly comes dry, a few drops of cum barely oozing out into Paul’s fingers. 

The two of them stay locked together for a few long moments, both of them panting. Paul rocks his hips against Tord until he’s whimpering and squirming in his grip, trying to free himself from the overwhelming sensation. Paul pulls out, and lets Tord collapse onto his stomach on top of Patryck.

Patryck runs his fingers through Tord’s hair, murmuring praise and coaching his breathing. Paul stands with a grunt, shuffling into the bathroom and out of sight. He returns with a pair of damp washcloths, tossing one to Pat, who snatches it deftly out of the air. 

He works on cleaning the mess sandwiched between himself and his leader, while Paul makes quick work of his own dick and what little of his cum had slipped out of Tord. Pat passes the cloth back to him, and Paul tosses the two soiled articles in the general direction of the bathroom before laying a playful swat against the back of Tord’s thighs and collapsing next to them. 

Tord's breathing is deep and even, revealing his exhaustion. But before they all pass out, his good eye cracks open, fixing them both with a stare possessing a deadly clarity. 

“You two are in deep shit once I get my hands on you again,” he growls, all submissiveness suddenly wiped clean from his demeanor. 

But Paul chuckles as Pat shoots their leader a grin. “We expected as much, sir.” 


End file.
